A Monster Inside
by wintryone
Summary: Marian Hawke has faced and defeated dozens of enemies in her rise to Champion of Kirkwall. But there is one monster, one who lives inside of her, that she cannot defeat. When the last of her loved ones is threatened, it nearly breaks her. Set in Act 3. One shot.


Here she was, Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, defender of the people and Deep Roads explorer.

It wasn't as if she were unaware of her many fine qualities, not at all. There was a mirror in her bedroom, so she knew she was pleasant to look upon. In fact, some had called her beautiful. She was also quite aware that she was intelligent, kind and even brave. That day in the Keep when she had faced the Arishok, with his massive, muscular form and wicked blades, she had felt fear, yes. Yet stronger than her fear had been the deep-seated motivation to protect the innocents who would suffer so much under Qunari hands. When she'd pulled her slim daggers from their sheaths, and faced the grey warrior who'd towered above her, she'd only felt a steely resolve and a trust in her abilities.

A trust that had proven justified, as she had looked down upon the dying leader of the Qunari people amid the cheers from her fellows at the Keep.

Capable, compassionate and clever, Hawke had, over the years, developed a very serious flaw, indeed. It was a reasonable flaw, considering the course her life had taken, yet it was beginning to interfere with her ability to function. Especially with the tensions in the Gallows between mage and Templar increasing daily at an alarming rate.

Marian Hawke was worried. She was, in fact, filled with an overwhelming anxiety that she could not dispel.

Looking back now, she knew exactly when this weight in her solar plexus had been born. During their escape from Ferelden, when she'd watched her home burn, and so many friends fall under the plague of the darkspawn horde. When she'd watched, helpless, as that ogre had lifted her lovely sister, Bethany, into the air only to slam her body down into the ground over and over again - endlessly it seemed - until she was no more than a broken doll - her once pretty face disfigured beyond recognition.

That was the day her anxiety had been born, and it had been growing and thriving ever since. It had become a monster with teeth and claws that lived in her belly, biting and scratching at her insides during the day, and terrorizing her sleep at night.

As if Bethany's loss hadn't been bad enough, she'd also lost her brother Carver in the Deep Roads. She had put him to the blade herself, which had fueled her inner monster to such a degree that since that day, she'd not had a moment's peace. It didn't help her mind or her heart that it was her own fault he'd died. Why had she chosen Merrill to go with them over Anders? No, she'd hide from that reality no longer. She'd chosen the Dalish blood mage over the healer because Anders made her feel uncomfortable. The way he looked at her, as if he was just waiting for the opportunity to jump on her - to bed her. It had been selfish avoidance of a problem she could have easily dealt with head-on. Hawke cursed herself daily for that decision. _If only_ had become a mantra in her mind.

None of that, however, changed the reality that she continually lost those she loved. Or that each time someone she cared for died, it was irrefutably her own fault.

There had been others as well. She'd not saved that boy Feynriel from the demons that plagued his dreams, and again had been forced to take his life, herself. Hawke had felt a mirror of the blade plunge deep into her own heart as Feynriel had knelt before her in the Fade, begging for her to put an end to his suffering. There had also been those Starkhaven mages, slaughtered by that Templar, Ser Karras. She'd had no love for the blood mages, but they were still human beings, who'd had the right to seek redemption. Hawke's efforts to prevent the fight had failed, and as the mages had descended into blood magic, she'd been forced to help kill them all. Another ugly stain on her heart.

The event which had sealed her fate, however, the one that had permanently stained her very soul, had come just before she'd fought the Arishok. She'd lost... she'd lost her own dear Mother, to a fiend so vile she had no words foul enough to describe him. An image of Leandra's dismembered body, staggering across the foundry floor, her eyes like those of a dead fish, her voice cracked and broken as she called Hawke's name, begging for her help that never came, pleading to be saved from her inescapable fate...

Yet again, she had failed. Yet again, she had watched as someone she loved died in her arms. Despite the support of her friends, despite assurances that what had happened was Quentin's fault, not Hawke's, she could not truly believe them. If she'd been more aware, faster, stronger - she could have saved her mother. She was sure of that, and no well meaning words could change what her heart knew.

It was a long list, filled with Hawke's own inadequacy, and for years now, she'd had no relief. Not one moment's peace amid the strife and struggle of her daily life. It seemed that as soon as she'd dealt with one crisis, two more would show up to takes its place. At this point, her fear and worry had become almost like an old friend, who she knew and understood far too well. Yet, one who had long overstayed its welcome.

Now? She could not think of Merrill without worrying that a demon would finally take control of her small friend. She could not consider Anders without fear that Justice would win out and totally consume him. When she thought of Sebastian, her stomach clenched at the thought he could die in his attempt to retake Starkhaven. And of course, there was Aveline, putting herself at risk day and night, attempting to protect the people of Kirkwall, often to her own detriment. When she thought of Isabela, and the close call that she'd had with Castillon, a shiver always went down Hawke's spine. Her friend's careless ways were bound to land her at the bottom of the sea at some point. Even Varric, who on the surface seemed perfectly safe from harm, well - Hawke knew better. His dealings with the worst elements of Kirkwall always left him open for a Carta vendetta or an betrayal from the Coterie. None of her friends were safe. Especially not the one she cared for the most.

Fenris.

Night and day, dreams and waking, he was in her heart and her mind. Worried about him, she was consumed by fear that Danarius would come and take him away from her or, she shuddered to think, kill him. It had become a near obsession. Every since that night three years ago when they'd slept together and he'd run from her, they had maintained an uneasy truce. They never spoke about what had happened, and the only promise she'd received from him was that he would stay with her - Hawke's own personal champion. Yet, she lived daily with the knowledge that she could never speak in words.

Hawke was in love with Fenris.

She knew quite well the impossibility that he would ever return her feelings. His life as a slave had damaged him, apparently beyond redemption. Her heart, however, wouldn't listen to that particular brand of logic. It beat for him, longed for him... and was terrified for him.

Propelled once again by her distress, Hawke finished her meager breakfast and set out toward Hightown Estates. Although there was an uncrossable chasm between them, Fenris never seemed to mind her impromptu visits to his mansion. A small thing, perhaps, but one of the few places of ease in her mind.

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Usually when she entered his room, Fenris would greet her with a simple, _Hawke_, and they would slip into idle chatter about upcoming jobs, or she would continue the reading lessons they had recently begun. This morning, however, when she walked through the door, Fenris was pacing in front of Aveline, who wore an exasperated expression on her freckled face.

"I need to know if he's with her," Fenris practically shouted at the Guard Captain.

"I've done all I can, Fenris," she replied. "The rest is up to you."

Aveline rolled her eyes at Hawke as she left the room, muttering, "I've had my fill, you talk to him," before she left.

Hawke turned to Fenris, a question in her brown eyes.

He was clearly agitated as he explained that he'd received a letter from his sister, Varinia. She was here, in Kirkwall, waiting at the Hanged Man for Fenris to come to her. He feared, however, it was a trap set by Danarius to recapture him, and Hawke believe he was justified in thinking so. Her own anxiety mounted exponentially as he went on.

Finally, he said what she'd known he would. "Come with me, Hawke," he practically begged. "It would mean a lot to me." He paused and gazed at her, pain and desperation clear in his expressive eyes. "That's all I ask."

In that moment, Hawke felt as if she could barely stand of her own accord. She gripped the table and tried to take in deep breaths, as her vision swam and a terrible buzzing sound filled her ears.

"Hawke?" asked Fenris. "Hawke, what is wrong?"

She could not speak through the arid desert of her mouth, and only shook her head, clutching at the wooden planks of the table as if they were a lifeline.

A firm hand gripped her shoulder, and she felt his presence behind her. The warmth of him, the smell of him, made it the smallest bit easier to breathe. She'd been overcome, yet again, by visions of Fenris, bloody and dead upon the floor. He'd put his trust in her, despite all the ways she had fallen short in the past, and if she failed again this time...

She'd lose the last thing her heart still had to cling to. The very last thing.

"What is it, Hawke?" he'd asked more gently. Was that... did she hear an undertone of caring in his voice? Some deeper emotion rising to the surface?

Hawke gathered herself as best she could and turned to look up at him. His agitation was gone, replaced by a look of concern, and she did her best to smile for him.

"Will you come?" he asked yet again. "I need you, Hawke."

Despite everything, how could she say no?

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When they finally returned to the mansion, Fenris' former master was dead and his sister had run off to parts unknown. At first he attempted to talk to her about their past together, and what the future might bring. Hawke had tried her best to listen to him, to appear attentive, but even though she had not failed him as she feared, the buzzing in her head had returned even louder than before, her arms were tingling like they'd been hit with a mage's electricity spell, and her heart was beating as fast as if she'd just run a mile along the hills of the coast at breakneck speed.

In short, she thought she might pass out at any moment.

Hawke tried to call out to him for help, but the words would not pass her lips. The edges of her vision began to darken, framing Fenris as if he were a portrait upon the wall. She lifted one hand... and then all went black.

When she awoke, she was lying in a bed, a cool cloth on her forehead. She tried to sit up, but suddenly Fenris was there, a hand on her shoulder keeping her reclined.

"Stay still, Hawke," he said in his deep, rumbling voice. "You will only faint again if you rise too soon."

Hawke closed her eyes in shame. That she had shown such weakness in front of Fenris, this strong warrior who faced down his enemies so fearlessly... She just wanted to shrink into herself and hide away from the world for all time. As if her body answered her thoughts, her arms and legs curled up into her chest, and she tried to turn her back to him.

Fenris, however, would have none of it. "Hawke, no," he said and used both of his hands to turn her back toward him. "Talk to me. What just happened?"

She shook her head, unable to confess to him what a coward she really was. How each and every day was filled with nameless fears and overwhelming anxiety. She couldn't do it, not to this man who she loved more than her life. Whatever relief she'd felt that Fenris was still alive and with her, was stained by her shame. It was a palpable thing, which mixed with her distress and created a dread in her heart so heavy, she thought she would sink through the mattress from the weight of it.

"Hawke, it is over," said Fenris kindly. "I am now free, thanks to you."

Those simple words, spoken so gently, pierced through the last of her reserves. The tears came then, hot and flowing down her cheeks in a flood of grief and guilt. Again, she seemed to lose control of her body, as wracking sobs made her tremble like a sapling in a summer storm. Hawke didn't want him to see her like this, so weak and helpless, so... pathetic. He would turn from her, disgusted by her inability to control herself and her emotions.

Instead, Fenris made a soft grunting sound and lifted her from the bed and into his arms. He wrapped her in his tight embrace as he settled her on his lap and, with a soothing hand, gently stroked her back. "Whatever troubles you, Hawke, I am here to listen," he whispered against her ear.

His warm breath bathed the skin of her neck, and she could actually feel the calming waves of his concern flow over her. How many times had she dreamed of being in his arms again? How many nights had she tossed restlessly in her bed, wanting him... needing him? And now, here she was, safely held in the blanket of his regard, and she was a mess.

For a long time, Hawke didn't even try to speak, just let the sobs play out and her tears have their way. It had been a long time coming, and he'd already seen the worst of her, so why try to hide from him now?

Fenris, Maker bless him, did not push her further, but instead continued his soothing gestures, silently and apparently without judgement. When the storm was finally over, and all that was left was the hiccupping remains of the maelstrom of emotion, she finally looked up at him with her red and swollen eyes.

"Thank you," she said in her raw and wounded voice. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me, Hawke," Fenris told her. "I would do much more for you than simply hold you while you cry."

The way he'd said that, the tone of his voice and what it implied, sent her heart to beating hard again, though this time not in fear. "What do you mean?" she asked him.

"I would beg your forgiveness," he said with a wry smile. "I would abase myself to you and plead that you grant me another chance."

"Oh, Fenris," she said with a deep sigh. "You don't want me. I'm a mess. A failure." She lifted a hand to his cheek. "You best stay away from me."

Hawke was surprised to see a flash of anger brighten his eyes. "You are not a failure, Hawke. Why would you think such a thing?"

She laughed, and it was a broken thing. "Everyone I've ever loved is dead," she began, "Everyone except..." She caught herself, not wanting to make the admission. It was her job to warn him away, to give him the chance to truly be free, and not be saddled with her worries and fears. Fenris had endured too much of that in his life, as it was. She ducked her head to avoid his knowing gaze.

"Except," he prompted.

Hawke only shook her head.

He brought his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his. "Except me," he said softly. "You were going to say everyone except for me."

She didn't answer, merely met his intense look with one of her own, trying to say without words how sorry she was for everything she had done, and all the ways she had failed. He needed to understand, that to give himself to her would be the worst mistake of his life. It could not end well, given her past record.

To Hawke's surprise, instead of trying to reassure her, or even pulling away from her, Fenris smiled. "Perhaps that means I am your good luck charm," he said. "It would probably be best if you kept me around."

"Fenris, you don't understand..." she tried to say.

He cover her lips with his fingers. "I understand perfectly," he told her. "I understand that you take the weight of the world on your slim shoulders and believe that your are responsible to keep everyone safe."

Again, she attempted to speak, but the pressure of his fingers increased.

"You will listen to me, Hawke," he said firmly. "I have watched you for years, been by your side through the worst life could throw at anyone." His expression softened again and he ran a light hand over her hair. "Where you see cowardice, I see bravery against impossible odds. Where you see failure, I see a commitment to do the right thing no matter what." He laid a kiss on her brow. "And where you see weakness? I can only see a perseverance to pick yourself up after each new disaster, and keep trying to help those you care for."

His words, spoken with such simple surety, with so much empathy shining from his eyes, slid their way around her defenses and into her heart. Did he really see her that way? Or was he only trying to make her feel better? Was he only feeling sorry for her?

"I see the question in your eyes that your lips cannot speak," he said. "Remember, I too have endured the worst life has to offer." He pulled her close to him and whispered in her ear. "Without you, I would have never have found myself again. Without you, I would be no better than the slave Danarius made of me, or an animal with no more will than to simply survive."

Within his embrace, Hawke felt her muscles begin to relax. His words flowed over her like a healing spell, aimed directly at her heart. She found herself clinging to him, though she hadn't meant to.

"In my eyes," Fenris continued, "You are the finest woman, the finest _person_, I have ever met. Do not change, Hawke. Instead, allow me to lend you my strength."

Finally she thought she could speak, and she pulled slightly away from him. There was no deceit in his eyes, no wariness in his expression. His face was calm and candid.

"Everything you know of me, every way that you have seen me fall short, how can you believe these things of me?" she asked him.

Fenris took a moment to consider her question, his face suddenly transformed into a mask of concentration. After many long moments, he spoke again. "The cold and heartless people of the world believe that love is a weakness," he said. "They think that caring for others makes you vulnerable and means that you are naive. But from what I have seen in you - in each and every word and deed - love is stronger than all the blood magic in Tevinter. It is stronger than all the pious vows of the Chantry. It is stronger than Qunari dreadnaughts, and more powerful than a demon's tempting promises." He took her face in both his hands. "The world needs people like you, Hawke. Do not ever change. No matter how difficult, no matter how much pain, you must go on."

Hawke saw the shimmering in his eyes and could hardly believe that her stoic elf could garner his own tears. "You mean that," she said in awe.

"Yes," he drawled. "I mean it. And I would ask you, nay beg you, to allow me to be the one who keeps your heart safe. Allow me to remind you every day how strong and beautiful your love is."

"Fenris," she said, and her own tears filled her eyes again, so deeply touched was she by his faith in her - his belief in her. "Fenris, yes." She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Yes, yes, yes, yes." She repeated over and over again.

And in response, Fenris said, his gruff voice filled with emotion, "I love you, Hawke. I will love and protect you until my last breath."

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In the end, with the help of one person who truly believed in her, Hawke met the challenges of her life, and set in motion events that would change the world. The Monster inside her shrunk to a pitiable thing, who squirmed once in awhile, but no longer had the power to hurt her.

Hawke and Fenris? They were never parted again for the rest of their long lives.

**THE END**

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**A/N: Let me know what you think. A few simple words in the box below would be greatly appreciated :) Thank you!**


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